


What the Water Gave Me

by Aleatory



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempted Murder, Betrayal, Bisexuality, Blackmail, Bribery, Broke Sam, Brother Feels, Cuddling, Falling In Love, False Identity, Frottage, Human Gabriel, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Making Out, Minor Character Death, Murder, Murder Mystery, Novak Family, Protective Dean Winchester, Running Away, Sharing a Bed, This is Going to be a Ride Okay?, Wealthy Gabriel, fake FBI agents, hitman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:38:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7355677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleatory/pseuds/Aleatory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A millionaire's son vanished without a trace, a pair of bodies dredged from the river, and the honey-eyed man sleeping next to Sam in a cheap motel bed. They are all Gabriel Novak, and Sam is in far too deep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You've Been Holding Up a Long Time

**Author's Note:**

> Me, the bitch with five other WIPs: I can explain.
> 
> This will highly likely be edited to hell and back once I finish, but the plot just BIT me and I knew I had to start writing now. Fair warning, this will get kind of dark. There's murder and such.

Coatroom attendant had to be one of the easiest jobs Sam had ever worked. It had been several hours since the party began, all paid at a rather generous rate, and all he’d done was hang up a few jackets. The night was unusually warm for mid September in New York, so many of the ladies in attendance had foregone coats altogether, showing off long sleeved gowns that probably cost more than Sam’s rent for the rest of his life. The other attendant, Brady, was pleasant enough, and one of the waitresses, Charlie, kept stopping in with her tray of hors d'oeuvres and convincing him to try things he couldn’t pronounce the names of. Music and chatter drifted in from the other room where Chuck Edlund, multi-billionaire and investor, celebrated his birthday.

There was a swell of music from the other room, and the unmistakable pop of another bottle of champagne being opened. Sam hadn’t seen the hall, but Charlie told him that it was huge, well-decorated, and packed with mingling socialites. From the chatter carrying in on the breeze, he was inclined to believe her about just how many people were in attendance. Edlund Investments was, after all, one of the biggest companies north of New York City. And the Edlund family was well known for large scale drama, so any good gossip was going to be starting and spreading tonight. Chuck Edlund was a widower with four adult sons, and it seemed all the boys could do was fight. Loudly and publicly. 

Sam wrinkled his nose just thinking about it. Although he and his brother squabbled, he couldn’t imagine having the kind of fights with Dean that the Edlund brothers regularly had. 

“Excuse me.” An elderly woman at the front counter interrupted his thoughts by snapping her fingers impatiently to catch his attention. “Tell the valet to bring my car around, would you?” It wasn’t a question.

Brady responded faster than he did. “Of course ma'am, right away.” She handed him her ticket and he didn’t mention that they were not the valet desk as she walked back towards the hall.

“Rich people, huh?” Brady muttered under his breath, and Sam nodded and grinned in agreement. Although the majority of the customers checking their coats had been distantly polite, there were always a few who thought the help was below them, and they were always the filthy rich type. “I’ll have Ash go get it.” Sam knew that meant he’d be spending the next fifteen minutes chatting with the blonde at the valet desk who Sam could tell was uninterested but wasn’t being quite forward enough to make Brady realize this. Jo. Like Charlie, she seemed funny, and Sam was glad his new coworkers weren’t as stuck up as some of their clients.

Watching Brady’s determined attempts at flirting only fueled his current train of thought and sent a roll of jealousy through his stomach. Brady was attractive. Sure, Jo was too, but he’d been thinking about being bisexual more and more lately, and that meant sometimes he’d zone out, looking over at Brady, thinking about guys. He didn’t want to date Brady by any means, but he was  _ attractive _ . Sam watched him lean over the valet counter across the side hall, the seat of his pants stretched tight over his ass and his bangs falling into his face. Kind of a jerk and very much straight, but attractive all the same. 

Sam jerked upwards and out of his daydream as the back door of the coatroom was shoved open and someone entered quickly, dress shoes clicking against the floor. Charlie was wearing flats, and Brady was still talking to Jo across the hall. Wrinkling his nose, Sam took a few quiet steps towards the coatrack blocking his view, then peered around the corner. One of the party guests, easily distinguishable from the staff by his navy blue suit, was standing in the back corner of the room, one hand pressed to the side of his face as though in pain.

There was asprin in the supply box under the counter, so Sam stepped around the corner and said, “May I help you, sir?”

At the same time, the guest sniffled loudly, the sound of someone desperately trying to hold back tears and failing, and Sam realized, too late, that the poor man had stepped in so he could pull himself together in private. 

“No, no, I’m fine.” The guest turned to face Sam, rubbing viciously at his eye and probably making it redder in the process. “I just-” His voice caught in his throat. “I just need a minute.”

“Would you like me to-”

“I said I’m fine,” the shorter man snapped. His brows tugged downwards into a deep scowl, but he was so clearly about to cry that Sam had pity on him and snapped out of customer service mode.

“You don’t look it,” he said softly. “How ‘bout I lock the door and you can take that minute? There’s a chair in the corner.” Sam gestured.

The guest sniffed again. “Thanks.” He sank into the metal folding chair that the shorter attendants used to reach the high shelf and buried his face in both hands. 

Sam clicked the latch on the door, glancing back out the window to make sure Brady wasn’t coming back, and leaned against the wall near his guest. “Do you want to talk about it? Or, vent, I guess?”

“Maybe." His voice wavered. "I just can’t be out there anymore. It’s too much pressure and I can’t take it.” He looked up, drawing a shuddery breath. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been to one of these-”

“Only as the help.”

“-but they’re torture. So much passive-agressive bullshit, and pretending everything is fine when your whole family is rotting from the inside out.”

“Your family is all here tonight?”

“Oh yeah.” The guest ran a hand through his sandy brown hair, revealing tear tracks down his cheeks. “Gang’s all here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Sam studied the guest for a moment. He couldn’t be older than thirty, so he was likely fighting with siblings or parents, not kids or a wife. His teary eyes were the same honey color as his shoulder length hair, and his face was long but softly rounded. He came perhaps to Sam’s shoulder when they stood next to each other, but that was something he’d gotten used to since his rather recent growth spurt. 

“They just make it so clear they don’t want me around, y’know? Always on my case about how I don’t fit in, about my manners-” He stopped abruptly. “I didn’t even introduce myself. How’s that for manners,” he said rather bitterly. “My name’s Gabriel. Or Gabe.”

“I’m Sam. And, uh, if it’s any consolation, I kinda bailed on my own family. Different reasons, but…” Gabriel looked up at him hopefully, so Sam plowed on. “My dad and my brother fought constantly. Every day they’d be yelling at each other, and I couldn’t take it. I turned eighteen, took my summer job money, and moved out. Which, I guess is why I’m here instead of out there, huh?”

Gabe chuckled. “You’re not missing out on much. Sure the snacks are nice, but not a damn one of the people is telling the truth about a damn thing.” He sat up straight in the chair and wiped his eyes one last time. “I’d give anything to be able to cut contact and run, honestly.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Daddy-o holds all the funds. I’ve got a job in his company, live in his house, go through his bank for all my cash. Hell, I’ve taken off a few times- quick flight down to Bermuda or Bahama with some pretty mama. But my phone and credit cards are trackable. I’m always kinda dragged back.”

Sam shrugged. “Use cash. Hell, you could probably get a fake ID if you wanted. The public transportation around here kinda sucks, but it’s workable.”

“You really think I could make it out there? I just… I have to get away from my brother. In his eyes? I’m not worth the air I breathe. And I think dad loves me, he really does, but yeesh, that man does not know how to be a father.”

“I know the feeling,” Sam responded, tilting his head back against the wall. Hearing Gabe talk about his messed up family reminded him of being seventeen, of dad’s constant disapproval, of his brother Dean trying his best to be a mother. They’d just met, but Gabriel seemed to get it better than anyone else he’d talked to, ever. Better than Dean, even.

“I’d love to be able to just get out. Be completely out of the public eye for a week or two. Drop off the proverbial grid. I say proverbial because there’s no way I’m going into the deep woods.”

Sam let out a short breath of laughter. “Yeah, I get that. Camping isn’t for the faint of heart. Couch surfing is tough enough.”

“I don’t have anyone I could stay with. I think I’m just going to head home, lock myself in my bedroom and live off microwave popcorn for a few days.”

The doorknob jostled and both of them jumped, then Gabriel stood up and started rubbing at his face again, trying to look more presentable.

“Sam? You in there?” Brady called from the window.

“Yeah.”

“Door’s locked.”

“I know, I just-”

“Well, unlock it.” His voice held the distinctive irritation of someone who had just been shot down by Jo Harvelle.

“One second!” Sam shouted back, thankful the coatrack obscured Gabriel from view.

“The fuck are you doing in there?” Brady asked, more quietly so no one would hear him swear while on the clock.

“Nothing!” Sam spluttered. Gabe combed his fingers through his hair as Brady jiggled the knob again. Sam darted across the room and unlocked it, and Brady plodded past him, lips pursed in distaste. 

“Jo said I have a weird forehead; is she this mean to you or-” Brady’s eyes widened when he spotted Gabriel, who was pretending to hunt through the lost and found bin in the corner. “Um, excuse me sir, but can I help you with something? Guests don’t usually come back here…” he trailed off and made terrified eye contact with Sam, who gave him a noncommittal gesture.

“Not at all,” Gabriel responded, straightening up. “Just lost a cuff link and hoped it was in here. Your colleague was kind enough to let me back here.” Considering he’d been crying a few minutes ago, Gabriel sounded surprisingly suave. Sam also noticed him slipping a hand into his pocket, obviously tucking one of his cuff links out of sight. Clever.

“Of course,” Brady stammered. “Did you find it?”

“Nope! I suppose I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Or!” Sam interjected, a sudden plan forming in the back of his mind. “Brady, you could go look for it, while I watch the counter.”

Gabriel looked at him, head tilted slightly. “Nah, it’s perfectly alright-”

“It would be no trouble, sir,” Sam insisted as he caught Gabriel’s eye and silently willed him to play along.

“No trouble at all!” Brady agreed. “Where do you think you might have lost it? And what color?”

Sam and Gabriel made brief eye contact, there was a second or two of dead silence, and then Gabriel blurted “silver!” at the same time as Sam said “gold.”

Brady stared blankly.

“They’re mostly silver but they have gold centers.” Sam corrected. “Where did you say you might have lost it?”

Throwing Sam a murderous glare that he swiftly corrected into a thoughtful frown, Gabriel said, “Oh, I’ve been all over the place tonight, but I first noticed it missing when I was sitting over by... the orchestra! Yeah, right around there.”

“I’ll do a quick search and be right back.” Brady took off out of the room as though he couldn’t be out of Gabriel’s presence fast enough, and Gabriel watched him leave and the door close before turning to Sam again.

“Okay, should I ask?”

“You said you want to drop off the grid for a few days, right?”

“Yeah?”

Sam drew a breath to steady himself and offered, “You could crash at my place.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Don’t take this the wrong way, bucko, but we just met. About ten minutes ago, to be precise.”

“I know, it’s a little crazy,” Sam reassured, “but that way you wouldn’t have to use any of your credit cards, and no one would think to look for you with me. It’s not much, just a couch, but… I’d… want you around.”

Gabriel looked down for a second, considering, then looked up at Sam again. “Why?”

Sam shrugged. “Been a while since I had a guest over, and I think we have a lot more we could talk about. Plus there’s something to be said for watching junky TV on Saturday mornings.”

“We could get takeout,” Gabriel added a little wistfully. “Dad hates when I do that.”

“There you go!” Sam grinned. “I’ve gotta stay here for the rest of the event, but uh, if you’d like to just spend the night, I’ll give you my apartment keys.”

Sam wasn’t usually the type to give his keys to a complete stranger, but it wouldn’t be the first time he let acquaintances sleep on his couch in times of need. Besides, what would a guy who could afford a three piece tailored suit want with anything in his junky little apartment?

“How do I get there?”

“I take the bus and then walk, but I need my pass to get home, so you might want to call a cab.”

Gabriel’s face fell. “I don’t have my wallet on me. Thought I brought it, but I guess I must have left it at home.”

Sam frowned, then dug in his pocket for his own wallet and passed him a handful of coins. “Bus stop is down the street.”

Gabriel wrinkled his nose. “How far down the street?”

“Couple blocks.”

“Is this what it’s like to be poor?”

“Welcome to the real world,” Sam teased.

“Alright, give me the keys. And, uh, that jacket.” He grabbed a big yellow rain jacket out of the lost and found box and pulled it on over his suit, then tugged the hood up as an afterthought. “Perfect. I could be any weirdo in a rain jacket.”

“Hey, it’s Friday night. Perfect time for weirdos.” Sam pressed his apartment keys into Gabriel’s hand, taking a second to appreciate the warmth of his fingers. “Take a shower, okay? It’ll do you good.”

“Right. Got it.” He swallowed. “Thanks a ton, Sam.”

“No problem,” Sam promised him.

Gabriel looked around carefully before slipping out of the coatroom and setting off towards the back doors of the venue, and, watching him go, Sam barely restrained his laughter. The raincoat was really something.

Sam had returned to tidying up the coatroom when Brady opened the door a crack and peered in. “Is he gone?”

“Yeah, he just took off. I think he was going home early.”

“Thank Christ.” Brady stepped in and closed the door behind him. “He made me nervous.”

“Why? He seemed nice enough, for a rich guy.”

Looking at him like he’d grown a second head without noticing, Brady said slowly, “You do know who that was, right?”

Sam chewed his lip for a second. “Uh.”

“Think one of the highest ranking people in attendance. With direct connections to the big man himself.”

Sam’s heart jolted. “You mean… Chuck Edlund?” 

“I mean Chuck Endlund’s youngest son,” Brady explained, crossing to the counter and leaving Sam standing there with his thoughts going a mile a minute. “Gabriel Edlund.”


	2. Time Goes Quicker Between the Two of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alcohol cw. If you haven't already, I recommend listening to "What the Water Gave Me" by Florence and the Machine. I'll be naming all the chapters after bits and pieces of the lyrics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how much exposition there is here, but I'd reached a good length, and most of this info will become relevant in about two chapters. Plus, honestly, the more often I update, the more interested I stay in writing. That said, drop me a kudos? ///validate meeee///

On the bus ride home, Sam searched for “gabriel edlund” on his ancient iphone, and the results were not disappointing. Gabriel’s name appeared in several tabloid headlines, mostly ones about the in-family fighting that was affecting the company. He clicked on one that looked less trashy than the others and skimmed. 

“Another Day at the Office: Feud Further Divides Edlund Family”

_ Michael Edlund, CEO of Edlund Investments and oldest son of Chuck Edlund and Becky Rosen, formerly Becky Edlund, was spotted storming from the office headquarters early afternoon last Wednesday. He refused to comment when questioned by reporters. His brother, Lucian Edlund, Head of Internal Finance, was more than happy to give a piece of his mind, and even took a swing at one of the reporters and, thankfully, missed. Rumors of Lucian being demoted or even fired for questionable moral practices have been circling after Raphael Edlund, Head of HR, came forward with accusations of abuse within the company perpetuated or overlooked by Lucian. Although Gabriel Edlund, Head of Marketing, has spoken out in support of Lucian, many prominent investors are calling for the entire family to resign and hire someone a little less volatile. _

The article went on to describe more of the financial state of the firm, but Sam backtracked, and instead visited Gabriel’s wikipedia page. The fact that he had his own wikipedia page somehow made Sam even more nervous about staying with him for a week. Gabriel was the sort of person whose disappearance might make the nightly news. 

In his profile picture, Gabriel was wearing a navy suit, similar to the one he’d been wearing that night, and smiling at the camera in a way that was somehow both charming and mischievous. He had a very nice smile, too, Sam thought. His real name was listed as “Gabriel Novak”, although no explanation was given, and he was 27 years old- as Sam had suspected, Gabriel was barely older than he was, and already in a high profile position in one of the biggest companies in the state.

Sam backtracked again, scrolling past a few more articles about the Edlund firm before putting his phone back in his pocket as the bus slowed and approached his usual stop. A few fat drops of rain had started to fall, but the air was still choked with humidity, and he wrinkled his nose as he started back towards the apartment and took his phone back out of his pocket. The next article on the page was one that screamed tabloid garbage, but it managed to drag him in anyway. 

“Gabriel Edlund Gay Club Scandal!”

Sam barely read a word of the article, because the picture that loaded, nearly filling the whole screen, was one of Gabriel making out with a muscular hunk of a man. Enthusiastically. One jean clad leg was wrapped around the other man’s thighs, and it turned out that under his suit, Gabriel had a fantastic ass. One of the other man’s hands was buried in his hair, tangling in his soft curls, and pleasure was obvious on both of their faces. 

Sam stopped dead on the sidewalk in front of his apartment. The tabloid meant the article as a smear on Gabriel’s character, but all Sam could think was how goddamn  _ lucky  _ the other guy in the picture was. His face was mostly obscured, but he was tall and broad and Sam could imagine himself in that position, clinging to another guy and kissing him. He’d been imagining himself with a man built similarly to himself, a mirror image in every way. Maybe broad and musclebound just wasn’t his type.

Sam closed the article and shook his head as though clearing out his traitorous thoughts. Gabriel, regardless of social status, was a houseguest, and needed to be treated with respect. Friendly or not, there needed to be  _ boundaries _ .

\---

Sam pushed open the door to his apartment and was greeted by Gabriel sprawled on his couch, wearing his robe, and drinking the last of his rum directly from the bottle.

“Heeey again. I should have brought clothes, huh? Afterthought.”

Sam sighed and closed the door behind him. “That cost money, you know.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and took another swig. “I’ll buy you a fresh one, promise. I poured coke in this one. Want some?” Sam shook his head and shrugged off his backpack as Gabriel continued, slurring only slightly, “I’ll also buy you a better hot water heater, because that thing only lasted half an hour.”

“You used all the hot water?”

“Oh yeah. Every drop.” 

There went all plans for a shower, at least in the next hour or so. Sam crossed to the couch and gave Gabriel a pointed look until he sat up, then sank into the cushions. Coatroom attendant may not have been the hardest job in the world, but the Edlunds liked to party late into the night. It was nearly one at night now, and while his mind was still awake and buzzing, his body was ready to turn in for the night, shower or no.

Gabriel took another long swig of the coke and rum. His face was already flushed, and Sam wondered just how much he’d had. With his smaller stature, it probably wouldn’t take as much to get him drunk as it would take Sam. “I think you’re done for the night,” Sam said, prying the bottle from his fingers and setting it next to the couch. Gabriel whined softly, but accepted it, and instead laid his head down on Sam’s thigh.

“Um.” Sam looked down at him, suddenly wide-eyed and a lot less tired than he’d been previously. Gabriel’s- no,  _ Sam’s  _ robe was far too big on him, and sliding down his shoulders to reveal bare skin, and his mussed hair was right there in Sam’s lap- the same strands he’d seen in the picture taken at the gay club, caught in the other man’s fist.

“You alright?” Gabriel rolled over to meet his gaze with eyes the same shade as the rum in the bottle- warm and deep brown- and Sam suddenly felt as though he were the one who’d downed it.

“Fine.” He licked his lips and came up with a cover story. “I didn’t realize until after you left that you, uh-”

“That I’m Edlund’s kid?”

“Yeah. Which is fine, I just don’t want like, the secret service showing up at my house.”

Gabriel laughed. “Don’t worry. Dad doesn’t love me that much.”

Someone, somewhere, would definitely notice Gabriel was missing. Sam wondered if he had a boyfriend. Sam hoped he didn’t. “The local cops, then. They’ll trace you back here somehow.” Sam stiffened a little. “Where’s your phone?”

Gabriel picked it up off the floor clumsily and passed it to him. Sam turned it over, tugged off the bright colored case, and pulled the battery out.

“Hey,” Gabriel protested, but not very strongly. “Tha’s not good for it.”

“Yeah, well, if you really want to commit to this ‘getting away from it all’ thing, you’re going to have to lie low for a while.” 

Gabriel heaved another pitying sigh. “I’m tired.”

“No shit,” Sam said with a smile. “I’m gonna head to bed too.” He hoisted himself off the couch as Gabriel protested again and went into the kitchen, returning with a tall glass of water. “Here. Future Gabriel will thank you.” While Gabriel downed the water, Sam fetched him a spare pillow and blanket, and before long he was settled in and Sam was in his own bed where sleep didn’t elude him for long.

\--------

“Morning. How’s the headache?” Sam leaned over the back of the couch to peer at Gabriel, who had barely cracked his eyes open but was still scowling at the world.

“It’s fucking bright in here, bucko. Have you considered better curtains?”

“There’s water on the side table,” Sam said lightly.

“Fuck me.”

Sam ignored that comment. “I’m going out for a jog before it gets hot out. Need anything from the store?”

“A brain that makes good decisions.” Gabriel rolled over and buried his face in the couch cushions.

Sam grinned. “I’ll check if there are any in stock.” And with that, he slipped out the apartment door.

\----

The two of them spent the afternoon watching cop shows and eating breakfast cereal, and it was strangely companionable, despite the fact that Gabriel was still nursing last night’s hangover and gazing sullenly at his dead cell phone. Sam spared him from too many questions by focusing on the television.  _ New York Department of Unsolved Murders  _ was an absolutely trashy show, and Gabriel agreed, despite the fact that both of them remained glued to three or four episodes over the course of the afternoon. Every time the storyline went back to the messy divorce between the lead detective and his forensic scientist wife, the two of them would groan in utter disappointment.

“Why should I care?” Sam protested as the two bumbling characters got back together- again. “This is worse than a soap opera.”

“You’re telling me.” Gabriel stuck his hand back in the lucky charms box, because he refused to eat it in a bowl like everyone else. “It’s like the saga of my brother and his last girlfriend all over again. I wanna see some more bodies.”

Maybe Sam should have worried about Gabriel’s enthusiasm for watching the fictional killers in action, but he was more intrigued by the mention of a brother. “You’ve got three brothers, right?”

“Yeah. Dickheads.” The last word was muttered between handfuls of cereal.

“Sorry to hear it. Mine can be the same way- he once put Nair in my shampoo bottle. I almost punched him, I swear to god. And I had to wear a hat all summer, it was awful!”

Gabriel snorted. “You _should_ have socked him one. You’d probably have gotten away with it.”

“He wouldn’t have told dad, that’s for sure. Being the younger one lets you get away with a lot.”

“Hell yeah. Younger brothers unite.”

“So I have to ask-” Sam started, glancing briefly at the tv when a woman screamed. “Is your real name Gabriel Edlund?” Gabriel gave him a glance out of the corner of his eye, and Sam squirmed guiltily in his seat. “Alright, so I googled you. I was curious.”

Gabriel tossed back another handful of cereal. “You’ve seen Raphael, right?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“He’s black. And, if you’re not getting what I’m getting at, adopted.”

“Oh. And you are too?”

“Yeah. Mom and Pops had Michael and Lucian, then couldn’t have any more, so they adopted Raphael.” Gabriel put the box of cereal down and leaned forward to rest his chin in his hands. “He’s alright, by the way. It’s mostly the older two I can’t stand.”

“And you guys all have spots at your dad’s company, right?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. I originally wanted to go into theatre, but I somehow got shoehorned into marketing. It’s definitely not a bad gig. You hire competent enough people to work under you, and they’ll bring you good stuff to approve. The worst part has been  _ Lucian.  _ He and I used to be tight, but recently he’s turned into a real prick.”

“Right.”

“Anyway, mom- Becky mom- always wanted four kids, so they started looking into getting another. And then uh, they heard about my birth mom. Everyone did, really, it was a high profile story. You can still find the news reports on it, if you want to see pictures of me as a cute little toddler.”

“What happened?”

“She died,” Gabriel said bluntly. “Complications of childbirth. She had twins and then something went wrong.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Gabriel shrugged. “I don’t really remember her. Becky’s always been mom, for me. She lives somewhere in Europe now, doing her reclusive writer thing.”

“What’s she write?”

Gabriel laughed. “Would you believe me if I told you it was lesbian erotica?”

“Oh my god,” Sam said, fighting back amusement of his own. “Exclusively?”

“Oh yeah. That may have been why she and dad split.”

Sam suddenly remembered the photograph of Gabriel in the nightclub, thighs wrapped around another man’s hips. “Does he, uh, disapprove?”

“Not of the gay stuff. I think he had a boyfriend once, before mom. But he was still trying to climb the corporate ladder, as it were. Public image stuff, you know? They split maybe ten years ago, and he acquired the company maybe… seven or eight? I don’t know. But we went from millionaires to billionaires pretty quick.” He grinned. “I’d bet she kinda regrets not sticking around for the extra cash.”

Sam laughed half-heartedly. How different his own life would have been if he’d started out the way Chuck Edlund had. Maybe his dad would have been able to do something with his life besides drink. Maybe Dean could have gone to school, too.

“But back to me. I’m two years old, super cute, with baby siblings and no parents, because my dad was a bum who took off on me and the twins’ dad died a few months earlier overseas. Gulf war- that’s why it got so much news coverage, y’know? We were war orphans. Everyone loves a story about war orphans.

“Mom and dad wanted to take me in, but they didn’t want to split up the family. So my aunt ended up adopting the twins; they live in the City, the three of ‘em. We all kept our last names. Hence- Gabriel Novak. And they're Castiel and Hannah Novak. You'd never guess they're halvsies with me, we look nothing alike.”

“Wow.”

“Yup.”

The two of them were quiet for a few minutes, watching the lead detective chasing the suspected serial killer down a back alley, shooting desperately, still wearing sunglasses even though it was night time. At last the killer took a bullet and fell, and the detective caught up with him, only for him to realize, tears streaming down his face, that it was his own estranged nephew that he’d shot.

“This is too much!” Gabriel protested. “Why would his nephew even be there-”

“I thought the nephew was already dead,” Sam interrupted, “so you’re a step ahead of me.” They sat quietly as credits began to roll. “I suppose it’s my turn, huh? For family history?”

“Hit me.”

Breathing out a long huff of air, Sam leaned back into the couch. “Where do I even start? My dad was a vet too. Vietnam, when he was only 18. He didn’t meet mom and have Dean and me until years later. Dean’s four or five years older than me, and after our mom died, he kinda took over being “mom” for me. Losing her really crushed dad, too. He, uh, went back to alcohol afterwards.”

“Mmm, sorry to hear it.”

“Things were okay,” Sam protested. “We moved a lot, but he always took care of us. Things were actually pretty good until Dean came out as bi when he was seventeen and then tried to take custody of me at eighteen. Dad lost his shit. I’ve never seen two people yell at each other this much and still live in the same house before.”

“Oof, you’ve never seen Lucian and Michael then.” Gabriel glanced over at him. “Not to make light of your situation, but I’ve been living with them for over two decades and things have only gotten worse.” Gabriel heaved a sigh and leaned over to rest his head on Sam’s shoulder. “Did Dean move out?”

“Yeah. He actually does detective work now, which is pretty cool.” Sam glanced subtly over at Gabriel. His hair was still sleep-mussed, even though it was rapidly approaching seven at night, and it was soft against Sam’s bare arm. Somewhere between thinking about wrapping his arm around Gabriel and pulling him close, and what it would feel like to be the man in that goddamn picture, Sam lost track of where his sentence was going.

“Well, sob stories out of the way, what are we eating?”

“You just finished all my lucky charms!” Sam huffed.

“I was promised takeout.”

“I’m not a millionaire,” Sam grumbled, but he didn’t feel like making food either. Saturday was his one day off. He did almost full time at a library, plus various one day service gigs as assigned, which was how he’d ended up as coatroom attendant to begin with. Tomorrow morning he had to go serve juice and coffee at a funeral.

“On me. I know login info for all of dad’s accounts, including several pizza places.”

“And you’re not going to use them, if you don’t want to be found.”

“Come  _ on,”  _ Gabriel rolled his eyes, Sam could hear it in his tone of voice. “I doubt they’re scouring my transactions. I’ve been missing twenty hours, tops. You can’t even be reported missing for twenty-four.”

“That’s a myth from trashy cops shows. Trust me, my brother’s an ex-cop.”

“I go missing for weekends all the time!”

“Yeah, and I bet he tracks you via your credit card purchases. Plane tickets, hotel rooms, restaurants, gas stations,” Sam ticked off on his fingers.

“Dad doesn’t care that much,” Gabriel insisted.

In front of them, the program had switched over to evening news, and was just winding up a story about the local dog park’s plans for a new splash pool. “And finally, before we head over to sports,” the news anchor cheerily stated, “an update on the Edlund family. After yet another fight between siblings Michael and Lucain Edlund last night at their father’s birthday party-”

“Oh no,” Gabriel cringed away from the screen. “They did something stupid in public.”

“-the police are getting involved for the first time in months-”

“ _ Police,”  _ Gabriel groaned, burying his face in Sam’s shoulder as though it would make the story go away.

“-this time because youngest son Gabriel Edlund has been reported missing.”

Both Sam and Gabriel sat bolt up, staring at the all-too-perky anchor as she continued, “Gabriel was last seen at Chuck Edlund’s party, last night at the Hudson Bank Hotel. Mr. Edlund said it wasn’t like his son to just disappear, and in addition, he isn’t answering his phone.” A picture of Gabriel flashed briefly on the screen. “Anyone with information as to his whereabouts is asked to call our tipline.”

“Shit,” Gabriel said softly. “You were right, bucko, they really are hunting me down.”

The seriousness of what Sam was doing was starting to sink in. He had a missing person sleeping on his couch. A reported missing, being searched for by the police, millionaire’s son. Sam could easily get arrested for kidnapping.

“So, pizza, right?” Gabriel hoisted himself from the couch and padded over to Sam’s laptop in the kitchen, still barefoot and robed. He looked like he'd slept over- in Sam's bed, tangled in Sam's arms and naked, and flushed with sex instead of alcohol. That would almost be easier to explain when Gabriel eventually returned to his family; 'I hooked up with a guy I met at the party' was so much more normal than 'I had a nervous breakdown and went home with a total stranger'.

Sam forced himself to let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. “Sure,” he said numbly. Somehow, even though he knew he was sinking himself, he couldn’t fathom kicking Gabriel out. He wanted to wade in deeper and deeper. He wanted to breathe in- drown in- every word Gabriel said. It had been an afternoon, but he felt like he’d had only minutes, like he’d never get enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is supposedly set in Albany, which is a place I have never been. All my businesses and locations are fictional, but if I majorly screw something up, please let me know!  
> i'm on tumblr at aleatoryw, if you aren't already chilling with me and want to be.


	3. And That's What the Water Gave Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dey make out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exactly how many times will I compare Gabriel to the ocean? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Until someone stops me I guess. enjoy!

It was about Wednesday when Sam relented and admitted he’d had enough. As much fun as it was having someone to come home to in the evening, there was only so much disaster in his living room he could tolerate. Since he’d left for work that morning, another heap of wrappers, soda bottles, and plastic bags has appeared by the couch, and the heap of “Sam’s clothing worn and then piled behind the couch” had gotten significantly taller. Seeing Gabriel traipse around in his t-shirts has been hot at first, but he was rapidly running out of things to wear.

“Alright, I’m done,” Sam announced, snatching the remote off the side table and clicking the TV off. 

“Hey!” Gabriel protested. “I wanna see who dun it.”

“Yeah? And I wanna see my living room floor.”

“It’s not that bad.” Gabriel glanced down at the rug. “Okay, so it’s a little out of hand.”

“A  _ little _ ? Gabe, you could feed an army of eight year olds with the junk food next to the couch, and that doesn’t even start on the literal garbage.” He swallowed. “Come on. It’s my house. I live here.” 

Gabriel scrunched up his nose. “I’ll pick up all the trash.”

“Good.”

“ _ After  _ I find out who killed the lead witness.”

Sam threw his backpack next to the front door and sank into the couch next to his guest. “Yeah, alright. Fill me in while it gets back from commercial.”

Gabriel did as promised. Once NY-DUM was over, he marched all the trash into the kitchen, and even sorted out the recyclables. As Sam watched, he scooped up all the junk food he’d accumulated over the past few days and put it on the counter. Tucked into the inside pocket of his suit jacket had been a fifty dollar bill, and he’d wasted no time sending Sam to the grocery store with a list of things that Sam definitely did not consider quality food. He couldn’t be mad, though, as Gabriel asked for about thirty dollars worth of junk and let Sam keep the rest to spend on actual meals.

“Clothes, too,” Sam added as Gabriel made to sit back down.

“You don’t even own a washer,” Gabriel said, scooping up the heap of Sam’s things mingled with his own boxers (Sam had picked him up a package along with the sweets.) “What do you  _ do  _ with clothes when you don’t own a washer?”

“There’s a laundromat half a block away.”

Gabriel stared. “Not even in the building?”

“Nope. It’s not that fancy of a place.” 

“You have to carry it outside. And then wash it yourself. And dry. And carry it back.”

“Who did you think uses laundromats, Gabe?” Sam asked gently. Watching Gabriel slowly waking up to the harsh realities of not being a millionaire was entertaining, to say the least. So far he’d been baffled by grocery fliers, the bus schedule, a broken broom handle duct taped back together, and patched pajama bottoms.

“I dunno. People who have a lot of laundry, I guess. I thought most people at least had laundry in the basement, or something.”

“Do you even do laundry?”

“No, we leave it in the hamper and the housekeeper runs it.”

“You have a housekeeper?” Sam didn’t know why he was surprised, he certainly couldn’t picture any of the Edlunds sweeping up. But the concept was still so foreign.

“Sure. She comes by twice a week, does some general tidying up, runs the laundry, stuff like that.”

“Dishes?”

“Nah, Alfie takes care of that.”

“Alfie.”

“Oh! Our chef.”

Sam drew a steady breath in, and released it with a prayer for patience. “I am going to hold you for ransom,” he stated, “so that I can afford to buy a goddamn steak once in awhile.”

“He’s not in every day. Just a few times a week. I do know how to cook, you know.”

Sam sat up on the couch and turned to look at Gabriel. “Really?”

“Yeah. Hell, if you want me to start making dinner, I’ll do it.”

“Would you?” Sam asked. “I haven’t had home cooked anything in probably years.”

Gabriel frowned, arms still full of laundry. “That’s a crying shame. Look, Sam, I…” He paused, swallowed. “I realize I haven’t been pulling my weight, or any weight around here. So if you need me to leave-”

“No!” Sam interrupted, standing up a little quicker than he meant to. “That’s never what I meant to say.”

Gabriel dropped both the serious look and the laundry. “Oh thank god. I’m not ready to go back.”

Sam let out a sputtered laugh and dropped his head into his palm. “Good. Pick up the clothes.”

 

* * *

Gabriel kept his promise about cooking, too. He was surprisingly good at dressing up Sam’s usual cheap fare- noodles, it turned out, could be eaten in a lot of different ways. He even washed the dishes afterwards. And he kept the living room tidy, so all in all Sam was satisfied. His small apartment felt even smaller with someone using the living room as a second bedroom, but it felt cozy. It reminded him of when Dean came to stay for a few days and whenever Sam got up in the night for a glass of water, he would see his brother, still fully dressed in his usual jeans and layers of plaid, dozing lazily on the couch. Gabriel was quickly transitioning from guest to a part of home.

Gabriel, unlike Dean, slept in very little. Which was nice. Even if Sam swore to himself that he wasn’t looking, because that would be pervy, he couldn't help but glance as he slipped out the door to go to work in the morning. He had no idea if Gabriel had noticed, but it certainly hadn’t stopped him from lounging around a too-big t-shirt and too-small boxers. 

They managed to make it all the way to the next weekend before the subject of glancing was brought up. Sam settled in on the couch, thankful that he didn’t work until three on Sunday and could enjoy his Saturday night properly- with a decaf coffee and a novel. He hadn’t had enough reading time as of late. The humid streak hadn’t passed yet, and lazy raindrops hit the living room window occasionally, illuminated by the street lights that were just starting to click on for the evening.

“No big plans?” Gabriel padded in from the kitchen, carrying a bag of popcorn, and dropped down next to him.

“This book.” Sam held it out. “It’s a historical fiction, set in the thirties. This woman has a supernatural encounter and tries to figure out what it is that’s contacting her.”

“Neat. But I meant more like, going out kind of plans.”

“I was out all day yesterday.”

“But you weren’t out doing anything  _ fun,”  _ Gabriel protested. “Today’s your night off, you should be partying it up. At a bar, at least. You did just get paid, right?”

“Yeah, but I need it for other stuff. Besides, it would feel rude, going out and leaving you here all on your own.”

“Oh, woe is me, left all alone with all these sour worms and an N-Y-dumb marathon.”

“Aren’t you bored of that yet?”

“It keeps drawing me back in. Turns out they didn’t get the divorce after all and are now trying to have a child.”

“ _ Why? _ ”

“They’re in love, I guess.” Gabriel shrugged. “I told you, I’m watching for the murder mysteries, okay?”

“Whatever makes you happy. My brother has a thing for medical soaps.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen an episode of Dr. Sexy M.D., but it’s… awful.”

“Oh, trust me I have.” Gabriel kicked back and put his feet on the coffee table. “Anyway, I’m going to keep watching trash TV. I have not burned the place down yet, so I don’t know what you think I’m gonna do.”

“I just don’t want to go out, okay? I’m just not a huge fan of bars.”

There was a pause, and Gabriel glanced up at him. “Gay bars?”

“I’ve-” Sam remembered the picture of Gabriel in the gay bar for possibly the tenth time that day. “I’ve never been to one, so no.”

“Thought about going?” Gabriel was looking back at the tv, trying to sound casual.

“Maybe.” Sam stared at the television, deliberately avoiding even looking at Gabriel. 

“You like guys, Sam?”

“Kinda. Yeah.” Sam could feel his heart jumping a little as he said it, not entirely sure what he was expecting to follow. He knew Gabriel wasn’t going to disapprove, and yet… 

And yet he’d never told anyone. Anyone at all, even in the past few months when he’d been checking out Brady’s ass whenever they were on a job together, and subtly watching the man who read the paper outside the salon while his wife got her hair done, and almost stammering when a male cashier brushed his hand while returning his change, and, more recently, watching gay porn. He wasn’t the biggest fan of porn in general, but he’d wanted to see if the idea of two guys did anything for him downstairs. It did.

“I thought you gave off that vibe,” Gabriel continued, “but I wanted to be sure. Girls too?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Sam answered, more sure of himself now that the truth was out in the open.

“Same here. Although I imagine you knew that.” Gabriel looks up at him again, staring until Sam forces himself to turn and make eye contact.

“What?”

“You said you googled me. I, uh, know what comes up in those first few results.”

Sam swallowed. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault it’s out there. Just thought we’d get this all out in the open. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with me being interested in guys like you, although I didn’t think you would be. Since you’ve been ogling me, and all.”

“I haven’t,” Sam said defensively. “I’ve just-”

“You’ve just been staring every time I come out of the shower, is what.” Gabriel grinned. “And if you’re not uncomfortable with the fact that I’m into you, all that staring probably means you’re into me. It’s okay, I know I’m hot stuff.” He tossed back a handful of popcorn and went back to trash TV.

Somewhere between Gabriel being into him and Gabriel accepting that Sam was checking him out, Sam’s brain gave out for the evening. He just nodded at what Gabriel had said and opened his book, staring blankly at a random page as he mulled over the conversation.

“Book’s upside down, sugar,” said Gabriel casually.

Sam flipped it resolutely, fighting back a hot wave of embarrassment. 

 

* * *

Sunday afternoon blended into Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, with the few hours Sam wasn’t working spent blissfully asleep. He said perhaps a dozen words to Gabriel on his way out the door in the morning, and a few more over dinner before crashing into bed. When he finally got off work Thursday morning, after serving mountains of pancakes to a conference meeting of way too many people, he collapsed onto the couch and let out a deep sigh.

“Long week?” Gabriel asked, offering him the remains of of a bag of chips, then digging into it himself when Sam shook his head.

“Killer. It’s only been four days, but I had so many different jobs to work.”

“What do you do, exactly?”

Sam shrugged. “I work for this company that hires out extra workers for big events. So it’s often waiting tables, or cleaning up after parties. That’s why I never have a set schedule. I also work Monday through Wednesday at the library downtown.”

“Yeesh. You can’t be telling me you need all those hours just for this place.”

“Saving up for grad school,” Sam responded, toeing off his shoes without untying them.

“Ah. As a grad school dropout, let me tell you, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Why’d you drop out?” Sam frowned. “Obviously not finances.”

“Wasn’t doing it for me. Everybody’s way too serious, for one. And two, it all seemed a little pretentious. I went to school to get away from the high and mighty.” Gabriel made to drop the chip bag on the floor, then caught himself and instead rolled it up and placed it on the coffee table. 

“Then I’m impressed you’ve made it this long living with me. I’m… kinda pretentious.” 

Gabriel gave him a quick once over. “You’re not terrible.”

“I’ve gotten better,” Sam insisted. “I spent a long time thinking I was too good for the life I was in.”

“You were,” Gabriel grumbled. “Your early life was crap.”

“Thanks,” said Sam dryly.

“You’re damn welcome. You want to watch a movie tonight?”

“Oh no, one of those bad ones you had me pick up?”

“They’re not bad, they’re  _ classics.”  _ Gabriel picked a pile of DVD cases off the floor and put them in Sam’s lap. “This one’s next on my list.”

“ _ Chupacabra vs. the Alamo _ ? Gabriel…” Sam shot him a pleading look. 

“I’ve seen that one. This guy gets his dick bitten off by el chupacabra.”

“Really?” Sam’s trying for condescending, but it comes out as morbid curiousity.

“Yeah. Come on, we’ll put it on, we’ll reheat the Chinese, we’ll watch this terrible movie, and I’ll give you a scalp massage.”

Sam sighed. “Alright, I’m sold.”

 

Twenty minutes later, his stomach full of rice, Sam settled on the couch with his head in Gabriel’s lap, somehow both relaxed and exhilarated about it. He tensed his shoulders almost instinctively when Gabriel’s fingers slid into his hair, but immediately loosened up when Gabriel started rubbing his scalp.

“So did I tell you who was on TV the other day?”

“Mmm?” Somehow, in his twenty-four years of life, no one had ever given him a scalp massage before. And Sam was loving it. He remembered a trip to the ocean, during his teenage years, when he’d floated on his back and felt the waves moving softly through his hair, tugging at the roots with every ebb and flow. Dean had yelled at him that it was stupid to soak his head when it was so damn cold, but Sam hadn’t listened; he felt so cradled and safe, and yet thrillingly  _ alive,  _ as though each rollicking wave could pull him out to sea. The vastness of the ocean had become something intimate.

The ocean had been cold but Gabriel was warm. He’d zoned out and missed half of what Gabriel had said.

“-out there hearing him.”

“Sorry?”

“Did you doze off?” Gabriel’s voice held an amused smile.

“Sorta.”

“I said, my dad was on the news. Making a big show over missing me and hoping if I’m listening that I’ll come home soon.”

“Will you?”

Gabriel didn’t answer right away, and his fingers slowed against Sam’s scalp. “I should.”

“I… suppose, yeah.”

“I can’t mooch off you forever. Besides, they’re gonna start looking for a body pretty soon. Nothing says publicity quite like corpse hunting.”

“Halloween is right around the corner,” Sam mumbled.

Gabriel laughed so hard that Sam could feel it, his stomach moving against the back of Sam’s head. “This is why I like you, Sammy.”

“I try.” He didn’t feel like laughing with the knowledge that Gabriel planned on returning, but he knew it would be selfish of him to make Gabriel stay any longer, especially when it had been his idea in the first place.

“We can still be friends,” Gabriel said softly, after a moment of watching el chupacabra brutally murder someone in poor quality CGI. “After I go back to living at home, I mean. We should still hang out and everything.”

“It won’t work.”

Gabriel didn’t say anything, but he stopped massaging and started combing Sam’s hair. They finished the movie and didn’t talk about anything but the god-awful special effects.

 

* * *

Sam was just beginning to drift off for the night when his bedroom door creaked open. “Gabe?”

Sure enough, Gabriel’s short figure appeared silhouetted in the doorway for a moment, and then he pulled the door closed behind him and the room returned to darkness. “Yeah, it’s me.” In the trickle of streetlamp light coming in beneath his pulled shade, he could see that Gabriel was wrapped in a couch blanket, hair pillow-mussed and eyes locked on Sam.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m cold.” There was a hint of humor in his voice.

Sam rolled to his side, the sheet sliding down over his shoulders. “There are more blankets in the closet… if you…” He trailed off as Gabriel sat on the bed next to him.

“You sleep in the buff, huh?”

“I’ve got boxers on,” Sam protested, sliding the sheet down. Gabriel took the opportunity to swing his feet under the covers next to Sam.

“I was hoping you’d keep me warm, big guy.”

“Oh.” There was definitely something he should be saying, but Sam couldn’t figure what it was, and the next thing he knew, Gabriel was pressed against his chest. His thin t-shirt was the only thing preventing them from touching skin-to-skin, and although Gabriel wasn’t exactly buff, Sam could feel the muscles in his arms as he settled himself in.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Gabriel’s face was only a few inches from his, and he couldn’t quite bring it into focus in the dark, but his voice was an easy to discern purr. “That I’m here?”

“No.” Sam had been, for a few months now, questioning himself about if he was actually into men, but there wasn’t even a flicker of a doubt in his mind that he was bi anymore, not with Gabriel talking with his voice all low and sultry and his body so close to Sam’s. With a tiny quiver of disbelief that he was allowed to, Sam reached over and ran his fingers through Gabriel’s light hair. “I can’t say I was expecting it, though.”

Gabriel laughed, just loudly enough for Sam to hear it. “You should have. Come on, Sam, don’t you know I’m a troublemaker?” He arched his neck to get more of Sam’s touch, then leaned in closer, breath hot against Sam’s cheek. “A real bad boy?” He shifted down and nipped Sam’s neck lightly. Sam didn’t know what to say, but he did know he wanted more, and he rolled closer with a groan, wrapping an arm around Gabriel, slipping his hand under the t-shirt’s edge, and splaying it possessively on the warm skin of his back. Gabriel had freckles, tiny and raised under Sam’s fingertips.

When Gabriel kissed him, Sam returned it with fervor, savoring every second of Gabriel's lips, warm and soft against his. Gabriel let out a little whimper, and angled himself to press closer, but pulled away from Sam's lips before either of them could get too deeply into it. He planted soft kisses and nips to the skin below Sam's ear instead, Sam's heavy breathing joining the noise of cars outside and whispering through the curled ends of Gabriel's hair.

“God, Sam,” Gabriel mumbled against his skin, “As soon as I realized you wanted me too…”

“Yeah?” Sam’s voice was breathy and taut, and he barely recognized it as his own.

“I kinda wanted you to jump me, right there on the couch. You’re crazy hot, Sammy-boy.”

“Why didn’t you jump me?”

Gabriel’s knee nudged at his thighs under the sheet, trying to get their hips closer, but Sam had a better idea. He wrapped his arms tight around Gabriel and rolled to his back so that Gabriel was sprawled on top of him, relishing in the half-surprised moan Gabriel let out in response.

“Because it’s not polite to make a move on your host,” Gabriel whispered, inches from Sam’s face.

Sam laughed. “I think you maybe just did.”

“Shut up, I waited a long time, and you clearly weren’t gonna do anything.”

Sam arched up and kissed him, bumping his nose against Gabriel’s in his boldness. Gabriel tangled his fingers in Sam’s hair again, tugging just a little this time, and teased his tongue over Sam’s lip, slowing them down. But Sam wanted as much as he could possibly get, like Gabriel was air and he was drowning; he mouthed sloppily while his hand slid down to grope Gabriel’s ass. The other hand pressed tight to Gabriel’s back while his hips rocked against Gabriel’s thigh.

“You always this eager, tiger?” Gabriel had propped himself up to look at Sam again, removing his lips from Sam’s- a tragedy. “Or has it just been a while?”

“I-” Sam swiped his tongue over his own lips, and he swore there was a hint of saltwater there. His brain felt like mush. “Both, I guess. Mostly I just like you.” He captured Gabriel’s lips again, softly this time, trying to savor every sensation. 

Letting out another shaky moan, Gabriel kissed back, mouth hot, but he pulled away a moment later and murmured, “Then we probably shouldn’t.”

Sam’s happy train of thought ground to a halt. “What?” His arms loosened around Gabriel’s torso.

“I’m… I’m gonna go back to my life, and you’re gonna be here, and it’s not fair of me to… lead you on, you know? You’re into me and I’m taking advantage of that and I shouldn’t.”

“Oh.”

Gabriel rolled off of Sam, but stayed pressed close. “If we fuck it’ll just make things…”

“Harder?” Sam offered cheekily.

Gabriel smacked his shoulder lazily. “Shut up. And yeah, it will,” he went quiet, then spoke again, softer this time, “cause I kinda like you too.”

Sam’s heart felt like it might overflow like a fountain. He rolled to his side and pressed a chaste kiss to Gabriel’s cheek. “Want to stay here anyway?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Sam settled himself into the bed, trying to convince his body to come down from the rush he’d just been on so he could eventually sleep. He understood what Gabriel was saying, he really did, but the whole thing had been so short, there and gone so fast. 

At least Gabriel was still sleeping against his side. Sam reached over and ran his fingers gently through Gabriel's hair, getting a sleepy hum in response. He could live with that.

 

* * *

Sam didn’t expect to wake up after Gabriel, but the spot near his side was empty when the sunlight slipping in his window awoke him. Still warm, though.

He pulled on the clothes he’d tossed over his open dresser drawer last night and padded out to the living room, where Gabriel was quietly watching the weather report.

“How long you been up?”

Gabriel glanced up, then shrugged. “Not long. I probably woke you.”

Sam rounded the couch and sat next to him. “Is the weather exciting today, or…?”

“No.” Gabriel ran a hand through his already mussed hair. “Look, I’m sorry about…” he gave a non-committal hand wave in the direction of the bedroom.

“You don’t have to be sorry for changing your mind.”

“I shouldn’t have come onto you in the first place. I’m…" He sighed. "I'm a hot mess, Sam.”

“I think we kind of established that,” Sam said slowly, fighting back a smile, “when you crashed on my couch for two weeks.”

“It hasn’t been two weeks,” Gabriel protested, but he did smile. “It’s been thirteen days. But really, I told myself I wasn’t gonna do this with you. So I....” Gabriel trailed off, eyes drifting to the television.

Sam glanced over at the screen, noticed that the station had gone from weather to the morning news without taking in much more, and turned back to Gabriel. “You’re...?”

“Hold on.” Gabriel’s voice sounded distant and dreadful. He fumbled through the couch cushions for the remote while Sam looked at the TV. Grey, dull footage of one of the banks of the Hudson was rolling, and the scroll bar across the bottom listed details of Gabriel’s earlier disappearance, and he wondered what Gabriel could find so important in news they’d heard thirteen days ago. 

And then Gabriel cranked the volume up.

“-confirmed to be that of Gabriel Edlund. The body was spotted late yesterday afternoon near the south end, and identified by police and medical examiners this morning.”

“What?” Sam’s voice was a whisper. He couldn’t get any voice out.

“Foul play is suspected,” the reporter continued, a soberness in her voice that was normally reserved for memorials and blizzards, “and we will have more information for you right here, as the story develops.”

The picture shifted, showing the river late at night, lit by the red of emergency lights and the false brightness of search lights. A makeshift stretcher was hauling a dark, tarp covered heap from the bank, streams of river water trickling off the edges, and hanging over the edge, just barely illuminated by the search lights, was a ghostly pale arm.

Sam tore his eyes from the screen to look at Gabriel, who was as ashen as the Gabriel Edlund they’d just dredged from the river. 

“Well,” Sam breathed finally, “we’re sunk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like half-done oatmeal, the plot begins to thicken.


	4. Pockets Full of Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i'm still alive.

“Hand me your phone,” Gabriel said, still shell-shocked but looking determined. “I’m calling the station to report a very serious mistake in that last story.”

“They’ll probably just think you’re a prank caller,” Sam half-whispered. “They’ve got, uh, police and medical examiners telling them one thing, they’re not gonna believe another from some random guy calling the tip line.”

“I’ll call the police, then. I’ll call… someone’s gotta be handling stuff like this.” He looked up at Sam. “Like when tabloids start something particularly nasty and untrue, we have a lady we call and she kicks ass for us. Naomi something.”

Sam shook his head slowly, mind churning. “I don’t think that’s gonna work, but I do have someone we can call.” He dug his phone out of his pocket and started dialing.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Gonna share?”

“My brother.”

“The ex-cop? Isn’t he a little too, I dunno, ex for this?”

Sam ignored him and stared down at the number on the screen for a long second. He’d deleted Dean from contacts what felt like ages ago, but he’d memorized the number. Because of course he’d memorized the number. He exhaled noisily and pressed the dial button.

“Hey, you’ve reached Dean Winchester, so you’re either one lucky dog or one unlucky son of a bitch. Either way leave a message.”

Gabriel snorted next to him, but Sam plowed on before he lost his nerve. “Dean, it’s me. I’ve kinda got a situation. The unlucky kind. If you could give me a call back later today, that’d be... awesome, man. Uh, thanks. Talk to you.” He tapped the red end call button in a rush.

“So now we wait?” Gabriel flopped sideways on the couch and put his head back in Sam’s lap.

“Guess so.”  _ If he even responds at all,  _ Sam thought, but he didn’t say that out loud. He didn’t want to scare Gabriel too badly. And while he’d listened to that voicemail recording a few times before, he’d never actually left a message before today. He’d never really needed to before today.

 

* * *

They watched another crap movie, and then another. They were just as crappy as Sam could have predicted they were from the titles.

“Seriously? There’s no way the crocodile-”

“Crocosaurus, Sam.”

“There’s no way fucking crocosaurus can survive eating a nuclear bomb!”

“Don’t be such a realist, Sam.”

“Someone needs to be,” he grumbled, then glanced at his phone again. Nothing. And it had been nearly six hours.

“So this brother of yours…” Gabriel pried his attention from mega shark for the first time all afternoon. “He drops in from time to time but you’re not really… in touch, right?”

“No.” Sam sighed. “Things just got weird after the whole custody incident. And then he wanted me to come travel with him when I turned eighteen, but I wanted to go to school. And then dad took my side, which in his eyes meant I was picking dad over him. Which I wasn’t, I swear. And then... then we had a big fight. Right before I left for school. All three of us were yelling, and I said I was never fucking coming back.”

“Yeesh.”

“Yeah. It was nasty. And I, uh, I never saw dad again.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah. But I really don’t want to talk about him. Dean on the other hand… we met up a few times since then. He sent me postcards while I was at school, but always from different addresses, so I never wrote back. And then one time he just showed up here and crashed on the couch.” Sam laughed. “He said he was just checking in on me, making sure I wasn’t living in like, a cardboard box or something. It was awkward as hell, because I had a girlfriend at the time, and Dean showed up in the middle of the night and we were both half dressed, which she did not appreciate.”

“I can imagine.”

“Dean is… um…” Sam desperately tried not to say slut. “Dean’s a slut. He’ll hit on anyone even remotely hot. Anyway, he gave me his new number, and told me I could call him whenever, but I haven’t really needed to. Besides, he just shows up, sometimes.”

Right on cue, a key fumbled in Sam’s lock and the door swung open with enough force to thud against the wall and rebound into a tall, freckled man in a leather jacket. “‘Sup, bro?”

“Dean?” Sam sputtered. “How did you-”

“May or may not have been in Ohio when I got your message. May or may not have made a copy of your key last time I was hanging out here.” Dean shrugged and swung the door closed behind him with another loud slam.

Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times, very quickly. “Okay- okay one, that’s like eight hours away from here-”

“Yeah, if you drive the speed limit.”

“And two, you made a copy of my- Dean, that’s illegal!”

Dean slid off his jacket. “Wow. Unbelievable. Not even a hello from this guy.” He craned his neck to see around Sam and settled his eyes on Gabriel. “So how ‘bout you, hot thing?” The flirtation was punctuated with a wink, and Sam’s heart suddenly felt like a clenched fist in his chest.

“Entrance like that? I think you definitely get a hello,” Gabriel said, and he  _ purred  _ it. 

Sam’s eyes narrowed, and as Gabriel started to stand, Sam pushed him back to the couch. “I think we have bigger problems right now than your welcoming committee. Does the name ‘Gabriel Edlund’ ring a bell?”

Dean scrunched his nose in thought. “That rich kid they found in a river, right?”

Sam stood. “Yeah. And you know who this is?”

Dean had to crane his neck to see around Sam, but he looked over at Gabriel again and then said finally, “Shit.”

“I have no idea what’s going on, or who they actually found in the river, but I could really use your help.”

“It’s no problem, man.” Dean stepped closer and threw his arms around Sam, slapping him on the back a few times for emphasis. “Now, what do we got to eat? I’m starved.”

“Pizza? I could go for pizza,” Gabriel offered.

“I’m game. And don’t worry, Scrooge McDuck,” Dean turned to Sam, “I’ll buy.”

They didn’t get down to actually talking about the problem until thirty minutes later, after Gabriel and Dean squabbled about pizza toppings (they might have been flirting? Sam still wasn’t sure), Sam placed the order, and all three of them were settled on the couch with dinner and beer. Sam somehow ended up sitting on the floor, even though it was his couch. Dean’s arm, thrown over the back of the couch, was behind Gabriel’s shoulders, and Sam didn’t like to think about it.

“Okay, so you’re Gabriel Edlund, yeah?” Dean asked.

“Yes.”

“Haven’t you been missing for the past couple weeks?”

“I’ve been here.”

“Here as in… here here?”

Sam swallowed his mouthful of pizza. “Yes, unfortunately.”

“Aw, come on, Sam.” Gabriel leaned down and planted a slightly greasy kiss on the top of Sam’s head. “You liked it.”

“And you two are dating, right? That’s the real misfortune.”

Sam choked on a mouthful of nothing. “No.”

“So he’s available.” Dean’s arm slid down to pull Gabriel close, but Gabriel squirmed out of it.

“I wouldn’t say… available, exactly. More like… single but reasonably slutty.”

“Can we please focus?” Sam snapped more than he meant to in his irritation. Dean had done this before, to various girls Sam had been seeing or interested in, and it never ended well. Either they fell hard for Dean, or they disliked how strong he came on and distanced themselves from both brothers- and in both situations, Sam was single when Dean left town.

“Alright, alright.” Dean held up his hands in innocence. “Any idea who the body actually is?”

Gabriel shook his head. “No. Plus they said there might be  _ foul play _ involved, so the case is gonna be a mess of red tape. Just trying to figure out who the victim is could be a wild goose chase.”

“Foul play and goose chase? Seriously?” Sam muttered, biting into another slice of pepper and olive.

Dean didn’t bother responding. “I don’t think it’ll be that bad. First step is to get into the morgue, find out what turkey misidentified the body and if it was an accident.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Turkey? Dean, you’re doing this on purpose.”

“From there, we figure out who the killer was actually going after- real Gabriel or fake Gabriel. That’ll bring our suspect list down, and hey, if it’s just a simple misunderstanding and you weren’t really the target...” Dean shrugged.

“Then I don’t have to worry and we can explain the whole mess to the police without sounding too much like silly geese.” Gabriel shot Sam a wink that time.

“Oh my god.” Sam buried his face in his free hand.

“I know, this plan sounds crazy as a loon. But as long as none of us chicken out, I think it’ll work.” Gabriel looked down at Sam proudly.

“Please stop.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “What the hell are you two doing?”

“Don’t play innocent with me,” Sam grumbled. “You’ve been making foul play jokes, both of you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sam,” Dean stated. Sam risked a glance up. His brother’s face was impressively neutral- and then he cracked, just a little and said, “But there’s no need to get mad as wet hen about it.”

Sam hauled himself to his feet. “I’m getting another drink.”

 

* * *

Later that evening, Dean made it perfectly clear that the couch was  _ his  _ place to crash for the night, and Gabriel awkwardly asked if it would be better if he got a motel room at the seedy place down the street with some of Dean’s cash.

“You kidding?” Sam sputtered in response. “You are not leaving this apartment until we have this all figured out and fixed.”

“Why? It’s not like anyone’s gonna be on the lookout for me any more.”

“Yeah, cause they all saw your face on the news, all day, round the clock. That story ran like six times.”

“Were you counting?”

Sam scratched his neck. “Sorta.”

“Nerd.”

“Gabriel, this is actually a big deal. I was kinda worried about things before, just because there were cops looking for you, but now there’s possibly murder involved, and we have a corpse on our hands, and I’m scared for you because…” Sam stopped himself before he said anything too stupid. “Because what if someone was trying to kill you?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Who’d want to kill me?”

“I don’t know. But just… stay in? Please?”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t have to tell me twice. So um, Samster? Where am I sleeping?”

Sam shrugged. “We already slept together once, I don’t think a couple more nights is gonna-”

“Knew it!” Dean had appeared at the top of the hallway. “I knew you guys were screwing.”

“We’re not screwing- I just meant- we, uh, crashed on the couch together one night, okay?”

Gabriel looked up, caught Sam’s eye, and raised a sceptical eyebrow. “I’m going to shower.” His tone of voice, thankfully, gave nothing away.

Dean looked disappointed. “So you’re not bi?”

“Why do you care?” Sam scowled. He’d really only known for sure that he was bi as of  _ last night,  _ Dean could give him a little time to get himself together. A few weeks. Years, maybe. Or hell, maybe he never needed to talk about it at all. Even though Dean was bi too, and he’d understand… it felt weird, just talking about it. Saying “I like guys” out loud felt weird.

Dean shrugged, trying to look ambivalent but giving away a little wistfulness in his tone of voice. “I just… Dad always said I shouldn’t talk about it because I was going to ‘turn you gay’ or something. So if you actually were bi, it’d kinda be a slap in his face, y’know?” 

“He’d be right, though,” Sam said after a pause. “He’d be right but he’d be really pissed off.” Sam grinned. He hadn’t remembered that particular conversation in a while, but in retrospect, it was pretty funny.

Dean laughed. “Yeah. Anyway, if you want me to sleep in the bed with the cute rich guy, I’ll definitely take one for the team.”

“No! It’s okay, really. He’s a friend of mine, that’s why he’s here to begin with.”

Dean gave him a very skeptical look, then turned back to the living room. “Alright.”

Sam was half asleep when Gabriel crawled into bed next to him and pressed his forehead against Sam’s shoulder blades. “Oh gross, you’re all wet,” Sam grumbled, but at least Gabriel was still warm, meaning he hadn’t used all the hot water again. He was getting much better about that.

“Wow, you really know how to treat a lady.” Gabriel settled into the pillow, damp hair away from Sam, but he kept his arm draped over Sam’s waist. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“‘S nothing new,” Sam mumbled sleepily.

“Yeah, but this is a lot. You could’ve just kicked me out, especially after last night, but you didn’t.” Sam listened to the gravelly purr of a few cars going past, traced his finger against the hem of the blanket. “That means a lot to me, Sam.” Gabriel sounded choked up, and if Sam rolled over, god, he might kiss him. 

“No one ever really…” Gabriel swallowed audibly, shifted a little on the sheets. “You’ve been awesome. And I like you a lot more than I intended to.”

“How much did you intend to?”

“I dunno. Never run away with anyone like this before.” Another car slid by outside and the furnace grumbled into life. “Hey, that’s what we should do, hotshot. After we get this all figured out, you take a few days off work and we’ll run off to somewhere nice.” Gabriel had propped himself up on an elbow, and a bead of water slid down a strand of his hair and landed on Sam’s neck. “You ever been to the ocean?”

“Once.” Sam gave in and rolled to his back. Gabriel was cute when he schemed. “It was cold.”

Gabriel laughed. “Not where we’ll go, honeybun. We’ll go somewhere warm.” He laid back down and nestled himself against Sam’s arm.

Sam bit his lip. “Aren’t you… I dunno, scared at all? About all this?”

“Terrified, Sam,” Gabriel mumbled. “But I was an actor, remember?”

 

* * *

“Good morning!” Dean flashed a cheery smile to the secretary behind the desk at the forensics department. “Agent Wessen, FBI, and this is my trainee, don’t pay him any mind and don’t answer any of his stupid questions.”

The secretary didn’t smile, but she made very brief eye contact with Sam, the kind of eye contact that said she also was a trainee and didn’t appreciate Dean’s talking down. “How can I help you, Agent?”

“I’d like to talk to someone involved with the Edlund case.”

“Dr. Rana should be out of her meeting in a few minutes, if you can wait. Otherwise I can call someone higher up for you, but Dr. Rana has been directly involved with the case.”

“We’ll wait, thank you.” Dean turned away from the desk and crossed the room to stand near Sam. “That’s how it’s done.”

“I don’t know, Dean, I-”

“Hey.” Dean shut Sam up with a pointed look. “On case, you will refer to me as ‘Agent’, got it?”

“You’re getting too into this.”

“That’s how you gotta sell it, I’m telling you. Been doing this for the past…” Dean made a thinking face and continued, “Maybe seven years? You have to trust me, alright?”

From behind the desk there was the sound of a doorknob turning and a door swinging open, and both brothers turned. “Stephanie, I need you to call up the the lab, schedule me a conference call with Dr. Marcus. Thursday, if you could, dear.” A woman who was probably a full foot shorter than Sam was standing in the doorway, listing off instructions to the secretary, who nodded and jotted them down on a notepad like her life depended on them.

There was absolutely no question in Sam’s mind that this woman, Dr. Rana, was in charge of the department. She spoke without a moment’s hesitation. She didn’t sugarcoat any of her requests. Her red sweater, bright against her rich, dark skin, was rolled up to above her elbows, and her hair was tightly swept back, the look of someone who was regularly stepping into a lab. She had a pen tucked behind her ear, but not a forgotten pen, one that belonged exactly where it was and wouldn’t dare fall out of place.

“Morning!” Dean, thank god, had waited until she’d finished before opening his mouth, but she still looked at him like he’d ruined her productive morning just by speaking. “Agent Wessen,” he flipped open his phony badge, “and you’re Doctor Rana, I presume?”

“Yes.” She gave him one more quick up and down before smiling politely. “I was unaware the feds were dropping by. I would have tidied up.”

Her tone of voice suggested she wouldn’t have done a thing differently had she known. Sam liked her already.

“Just wanted to get a few words with an insider on the Edlund case, if you have the time to spare, nothing too dramatic,” Dean assured. “You know how the files are, all the bare bones, none of the details of the case.”

Dr. Rana nodded. “And this is your partner?”

“Agent in training,” Dean amended. “He’s here to watch and not ask questions.”

“Follow me.” Dr. Rana started down the hallway, loafers barely making a sound against the vinyl tile. She turned into an office; the placard by the door declared it that of Dr. Kali Rana, M.D. 

“We understand that you’re the one who identified Mr. Edlund’s body, yes?” Sam spoke up for the first time as he pulled her door closed behind the three of them.

“Yes, the night it was found.” Dr. Rana sat behind her desk, gestured to the seats across from it, and pulled the clasp out of her hair, letting it cascade down around her face.

Dean flipped out a notepad and pretended to take notes while he scribbled. “Could you review for us the details of the scene?”

“No evidence on the actual scene, of course,” Dr. Rana said smoothly. “The body was most likely dumped somewhere up the river. Been in the water for nearly two weeks, so unfortunately much of the evidence was washed away. You’d barely recognize the corpse.”

Sam had an idea of what happened to bodies left in the water, and the idea of Gabriel floating lifeless, bloated and rotting, made his stomach turn.

“Alright, so what did you pick up?” Dean asked.

“There was a fracture on the back of the skull, indicating that a blow to the head either before entering the water or immediately after was the cause of death. At the moment, we’re investigating it as a possible homicide because it’s similar to other instances of head trauma from cases that were intentional.”

“And if it’s not a homicide?”

Dr. Rana drew a soft sigh, the only sign of discomposure that she’d shown the entire time. “Suicide.”

Sam frowned. “Oh.”

“It’s still very much a possibility that Gabriel- Mr. Edlund, I mean- jumped into the river himself, happened to hit his head against a rock, or a bridge pile. We obviously are aware of the less than ideal family situation.”

Dean jumped back into the conversation before things got too somber. “Any other marks on the body?”

“As I said, much of the evidence was destroyed. Being submerged the way it was…” Dr. Rana held up her hands in a gesture of helplessness.

“So can I ask, how did you identify the body?” Dean had a note of caution in his voice, now that he’d arrived at the meat of the question. 

“It wasn’t difficult.” When Dean didn’t respond and simply raised an eyebrow, she carried on. “Certain features don’t change- facial structure, height and build. The eyes and what’s left of the hair are the right color. And of course, what he was wearing- navy blue suit, white button down, same thing Mr. Edlund was wearing when he was last seen.”

“Ah, so it was-”

“And of course,” Dr. Rana interrupted, “what was in his pockets.”

 

* * *

“This is everything we found,” Dr. Rana pulled a plastic bin off the lab shelf and opened it. The inside reeked of mustiness and river water, but Sam and Dean both leaned in to get a closer look. A handful of change; a few pieces of paper, possibly receipts and far too water-damaged to even hope to read; two house keys on a ring; and a wallet. Dean gently picked up the wallet and pulled out the first of several cards tucked in a side pocket. The plastic cards had held up far better than the slips of paper, because the name on the driver's license was still readable: Gabriel Novak. The picture was a few years old, but obviously still Gabriel.

“His legal name was Novak,” Dr. Rana explained. “But the wallet confirmed it for us. All his things are still there as well- credit card, debit card, licence. Even a couple checks. That’s what I can’t understand.” She took the licence back from Dean and looked down at it, a few strands of black hair escaping from her re-clipped hair. “Who would attack him and not take any money? He was a very wealthy man.”

“So motives might be… more personal?” Sam asked, still gazing at the licence in Dr. Rana’s hands. 

“I’m afraid so.” She slid her thumb gently over the picture on the licence. Dean had picked up the house keys and moved closer to the light to examine them, and with just Sam standing beside her, Dr. Rana lowered her voice and said, “I actually knew him personally myself.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” 

“So I know,” she continued as though Sam hadn’t spoken, “exactly what his emotional situation was like. It’s why my first guess was suicide.”

“Is he-” Sam caught himself- “was he suicidal?”

“Not that he ever told me.” She straightened up and reached for the wallet. “But I can’t say I’d be surprised.” She shrugged in a manner that indicated an attempt at apathy. Sam watched as she slid the card back into the clear front pocket, trying to figure out what emotions she was burying. Regret, Sam decided.

“Well, I’m sorry for your loss.”

She cleared her throat and then said briskly, “I haven’t spoken to him in several months.” Dr. Rana crossed the room and held out her hand to Dean, who looked at it sideways for a second before remembering and handing the keys back over. She looked back over at Sam and finished, “So I’m not exactly heartbroken. I just wish this whole thing had ended differently.”

Dean nodded. “Always sad to see a missing person case go south like this.” Dr. Rana took the keys back to the plastic bin and closed it up, and Dean continued, “Well, thank you very much for your time. It’s been a real pleasure.”

Dean had  _ that tone _ in his voice, and Sam’s eyes widened a fraction. He wouldn’t-

“I don’t suppose you’d like to keep chatting?”

Sam’s eyes slid shut and he let out a breath very slowly in an attempt to calm himself. Dean would, apparently.

“Over drinks later tonight? Just you and me?”

Sam re-opened his eyes just in time to see the glorious look of carefully suppressed rage mingled with “disappointed, but not surprised” on Kali’s face. “No.”

“I’m just aski-”

“No.”

“Alright.” Dean gave a tiny shrug, like she didn’t know what she was missing, and gestured towards the door for Sam to follow him.

As Sam passed Dr. Rana, he mumbled a quiet, “Thanks.”

She smiled at him. It might have even been genuine.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you did that.” Sam rounded on Dean the second they were standing on the city sidewalk again. “If she’d said yes? You were just gonna what, fake being an agent for a couple more hours and hope she doesn’t catch on?”

“I was gonna take the nice lady for a drink and hopefully a roll in the sheets, it’s not that big a deal.” Dean opened the door to his car, a shiny black ‘67 Impala that Sam knew more about that he’d care to, and slid into the driver’s seat. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Sammy. Besides,” he slammed the door and waited until Sam was in the car next to him before continuing, “she’s more likely to remember the fact that I hit on her than anything else, meaning she’s less likely to notice anything odd about our visit.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Dean.”

“Anyway, I got pictures of both keys so we can copy them if needed,” Dean started the car and pulled away from the curb, “and now we have a place to start digging. That was a genuine driver’s licence, as far as I can tell.”

“So someone stole it,” Sam nodded slowly.

“Exactly. So we find out who and why, we’re one step closer to finding out why the corpse had it. And if he was the intended target.”

“So you don’t think it’s suicide?”

Dean shook his head, staying focused on the road. “Too many coincidences to your runaway boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Right. Which is why he’s wearing your clothes and sleeping in your bed and giving you cute little kisses when you guys think I’m not looking- and yeah, I saw that thing at breakfast this morning. Come on, Sam, I’ve seen you pull the ‘she’s not my girlfriend’ routine a dozen times.”

“And how many times has she actually  _ not been my girlfriend? _ ” Sam insisted. That perfectly logical response, however, didn’t stop a warm flush from creeping down his body remembering the way Gabriel had briefly straddled his lap briefly that morning. The urge to slide his hands up the back of Gabriel’s shirt had been dutifully repressed. The things that had been done and said that night when Gabriel had been “cold” had been swept away by the much more pressing matter of the possible murder case, rightfully so, but they’d still happened. And now that Gabriel wasn’t going anywhere any time soon…

“Whatever man,” Dean sounded for a moment like he was going to give it a rest, but then he continued, “Look, I respect dibs and all, but if you aren’t making a move on that, I probably will.”

“Fine, dibs then!” Sam blurted out, a lot quicker than he intended to.

Dean grinned knowingly, and Sam had never wanted so badly to sock him. “Alright.”

“Don’t.”

“I just said ‘alright’.”

Sam sank back against the bench seat and hoped it might absorb him. He had bigger things he should be worrying about, but somehow he couldn’t get his feelings for Gabriel out of his head. Dean was not helping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to be shameless here- if you're enjoying this, please leave a comment? Even a short one? I'm having trouble finding the motivation to write for a variety of reasons and getting the "new comment" email really brightens my day and inspires me to devote my brainpower to this story instead of whatever else is going on in here.


	5. A Bargain Must Be Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are back! I slowly but surely haul myself out of creative slump!

“Good news,” Dean announced as he worked his knockoff key out of Sam’s front door lock. “We found your wallet.”

Gabriel perked up from where he was lounging on the couch, wrapped in one of Sam’s oversized hoodies, eyes lighting. “Where was it?”

“Dead guy’s pocket.”

Sam closed the door behind the two of them and shrugged out of his jacket. “At least, we’re pretty sure it was your wallet. Black with a gold edge? Driver’s licence in the front pocket?”

“That’d be it.” Gabriel frowned, puzzled. “How in the hell did it end up there?” He stood up and clicked off the TV. “We are talking about the dead guy they found in the river, right?”

“Same one.” Dean strode over, snatched the remote out of his hand, and turned the TV back on. “So I’m taking a break while you figure out where exactly you saw it last. Besides,” he flipped through the dismally short list of free channels to find what he was looking for. “Dr Sexy is on at two.”

“On Saturdays?” Sam asked, hoping desperately Dean had forgotten the days of the week and his living room would remain blessedly Dr. Sexy free.

“Yeah, all afternoon starting at two on Saturdays. Scoot.” He brushed past Gabriel to take his seat on the couch.

Gabriel glanced over at him and then turned back to Sam. “I thought I brought it with me to Dad’s party at the hotel that night. Last time I remember seeing it is earlier that day.”

“So someone lifted it off you at the party?”

“Definitely plausable. There were a ton of people there and I’m sure plenty of them wanna see Edlund Investments up in smoke.”

“Why?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at him in amusement. “It’s an investment company. Wall street, Sam. This is some big money we’re talking about.”

“So… if Edlund does poorly, other investment companies can take your customers?”

“Exactly. Public image is important, and financial security is even more important. Which is why Lucian’s been making my job living hell.”

“What’d he do?”

“That’s the shady part. We’re still not entirely sure. He refuses to own up to it to Michael. And I publicly stated that I trusted whatever he was doing, you know, just a little spoonful of ‘don’t worry about it’ for the investors.” Gabriel ran a hand through his hair. “And then the abuse allegations came forward. We’ve kept a lot of it quiet but it looks like he was blackmailing a couple people into keeping some of his deals under the table.”

Sam nodded. “And I suppose none of them will talk?”

“I don’t know. Raphael handles that kind of thing. I just decide what goes public and what doesn’t.”

Sam shook his head, dismissing that line of thought. “Okay, so who can you name that was there and stands to gain from something bad happening to you?”

“That’s just it- why me? Like I said, I’m not exactly that high up in the company. I only have the position because Dad felt bad not giving me something to run. If I go away, I probably get replaced by someone more competent, not less.”

“Then… maybe they were legitimately after the money in your wallet?” There were so many possibilities Sam barely knew where to start. Someone could have pickpocketed Gabe for his money, then gotten involved with the doppleganger in some way- maybe he stole the wallet back, or maybe the thief felt a wave of guilt and returned it, but to the wrong person. Had the fake Gabriel even  _ been  _ at the party that night? Had he been right under Sam’s nose the whole time? 

Sam glanced over at Gabriel. For that matter… did he even know for sure that this was the actual Edlund kid? More qualified people than he had seen the body. The only thing he had to go off of was Gabriel’s word- and Brady’s. That thought made things even more tangled, and he dismissed it. He’d lived with Gabriel for weeks, and he’d never given the slightest hint of being lying.

Gabriel snapped suddenly. “I have a copy of the invitation list! On my phone!”

“Oh thank god, that makes this so much easier,” Sam breathed.

“I’m gonna have to put the battery back in, you know.” Gabriel clambered over Dean’s legs, and Dean let out a grunt as Gabriel blocked his view of the screen briefly. “And that means the location will be on for a couple minutes while it boots up.”

“We’ll have to risk it. This is the only lead we have, and at this point, I’m less scared of the police turning up for you than…” Sam floundered, “a hitman, or something.”

“Alright, so we have guest list?” Dean rejoined the conversation as Dr. Sexy went into its first commercial break. “I can run all the names through police records, see if anybody’s got any previous stuff we could look into.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Slightly.” Dean winked. “But only slightly though, it’s not like I hacked into the pentagon or something. I’m not that good. Now if you wanted good, I’ve got a friend, Ash who actually worked for the feds for a while because he was so good.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Got it.” Gabriel held up his phone, displaying an excel chart of names and mailing addresses, obviously sent via email.

Dean took it, grabbed his laptop off the side table, and got to work. Within a few minutes, he had a handful of names open in about a dozen tabs of a browser Sam had never seen before and was sure he could live without seeing again. “Alright, so here’s who I got. Looks like some of your dad’s pals have been pretty naughty.”

“Considering the parties I know some of them go to…” Gabriel muttered.

“A Ms. Eve Zinfence? Widow? Miiiiight have killed her husband. She was acquitted.”

Gabriel made a face. “I’ve seen her before, but I don’t think I saw her that night. And she’s not easy to miss. Very dramatic.”

“Okay, a Zachariah Smith? Committed some investment fraud, which is mildly concerning since I also have that he works for your company.”

“Yeah, he’s one of Lucifer’s more questionable hires. Claims he was framed by his last employer. But he doesn’t really talk to me, and if Lucifer wanted my money, one, he wouldn’t have to pick pocket me because he’s got access to all my funds, and two, he wouldn’t, he’s rich as fuck.”

“Al VanPierce?”

“Couldn’t make it that night, in the Bahamas.”

“Richard Roman. It says he killed a guy?”

“He did. And he’s a total dick besides, but he’s a huge investor and he’s been out of prison for years, so he gets invited anyway. As far as we know he hasn’t killed anyone since.”

“Bela Talbot, been to court multiple times for- ah, theft and shoplifting? Sounds promising.”

Gabriel’s eyes lit up. “I did talk to her that night. And she was kinda touchy-feely, which I see now was,” he deflated, “how she got my wallet off me. Damn.”

“So I say we make an appointment with Ms. Talbot,” Sam decided.

“And here I thought she was genuinely flirting with me again.”

“Bigger issues,” Dean chided.

Gabriel snorted. “Wait until you talk to her for about two minutes. She’s hot as hell and really, really has a way of getting what she wants out of you. One time she convinced me to take her sightseeing in Madrid and then disappeared on me once we got there. Turns out she was hitting up upscale lesbian bars with my cash. I only got laid like twice that whole trip. And once was with the hotel pool boy.”

Dean cracked a grin. “Okay, I’ll watch out for those feminine wiles.” He gestured back at the screen. “It says she’s got an office and it’s still open for a couple more hours. We could go play feds once more, Sam, if you’re done wishing you were the pool boy.”

“Wha-” Sam stopped talking and felt his face go very pink as he realized what Dean meant by ‘pool boy’, and didn’t look at Gabriel as he stood up for his coat. “Yeah, I can go.”

\------------

“Afternoon, Ms. Talbot, I’m Agent Wessen, FBI.” Dean positively beamed as he dropped into the chair in front of her desk. “I hope you don’t mind my partner and I stopping by; we just have a few quick questions and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Bela said, brushing a strand of honey blonde hair back from her face with a perfectly manicured fingertip. Sam could see what Gabriel was saying, she was definitely hot, but it wasn’t like he was about to lose his damn mind over her and just hand over whatever she asked-

“And who’s your partner?” Bela turned to face him, eyes lighting as though she were suddenly taking interest in their meeting now that she’d seen Sam. She put her elbows on the desk and leaned closer, then revealed the slightest glimpse of a dazzling smile. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“I’m from,” Sam coughed, “from out of state. Ma’am.” Oh god. She really did have something about her. Sam felt as though he’d been singled out as the most exquisite, valuable thing in the whole world, like he’d been chosen for something special. Like if he were allowed to so much as kiss her hand it would be the height of pleasure.

“Met with the FBI before, ma’am?” Dean asked dryly, and as she turned away from Sam, he felt his senses come back. This woman might be involved with a murder case and he was concerning himself with how attractive she was. 

She gave Dean a coy smile. “Can’t recall. Your records ought to tell you.”

Ignoring this comment, Dean started, “You went to a party, September sixteenth, Hudson Bank Hotel?”

“I was there, yes.”

“That was the last time and place Gabriel Edlund was seen alive, and a few other guests mentioned they saw you having a chat with him.”

“We spoke briefly.” She wasn’t giving Dean more than a fraction of the charm she’d given him, but somehow he got the idea she liked Dean more. Something about the genuine interest in her eyes. “But I don’t remember us discussing anything out of the ordinary.”

“Do you remember what he looked like that night?”

She shrugged. “Navy suit, white button down, no jewelry, so what he normally looked like at his formal appearances. He didn’t seem on edge, either. I really don’t think I’m going to be able to help you.”

“You didn’t happen to see him leaving the party? He wasn’t with anyone?”

“I only spoke to him once, and that was the last time I saw him,” Bela countered.

“What time approximately did you leave the party? And where did you go afterwards?”

Her head tilted ever so subtly to the side. “Are you suggesting I killed him?”

“We’re just running through our standard list of questions, ma’am.”

“I left at about half past midnight, and I went directly home to my mansion to sleep on silk sheets and surrounded by my immense wealth.”

Sam and Dean shared an unsure glance.

“Even if I, one, stood to gain from his disappearance, and two, needed the money badly enough to kill one of the few people I enjoyed spending time with, I would have hired someone to do it for me,” she continued, the hint of impatience in her voice implying she couldn’t believe they would even suggest otherwise. “Do these hands-” she stood up abruptly and leaned over the desk towards Dean, long pendent necklace swinging forward and dress front dipping, and held the manicured fingers on her left hand out towards his face- “look like they do that kind of dirty work?”

Dean leaned back a little despite his best efforts to keep still, then muttered, “No.”

“Exactly.” She patted Dean on the cheek in a way that was somehow patronizing, threatening, and a little sexy. 

Sam cleared his throat. “You don’t know anything about his wallet?”

She glanced back at him and shrugged. “No, why?”

“It was missing from his body,” Sam fibbed. “We suspect someone at the party took it.”

Bela laughed. “That’s your best lead? A pickpocket?”

Dean leaned forward. “Do you have something better for us to go off?”

“I might.” Smiling coyly, she turned her attention back to Dean. “But I think you’ll have to tell me a few secrets in return.”

“Ma’am, you’re asking about federal clearance level-”

“You’re not a real FBI agent,” she interrupted.

Dean glanced over at Sam, looking only slightly perturbed that they’d been found out, while Sam’s heart kicked into a higher gear, and he made a frantic facial gesture in Dean’s direction in the hope he’d do something.

“Oh come on,” Bela said. “I know a fake badge when I see one. Those suits are obviously second hand. And,” she nodded at Sam, “no federal agent has hair that long.”

“Dammit, Sam!”

“This was your idea!” Sam sputtered.

“Well.” Dean grinned at Bela, who was watching them like a cat watches a birdcage, and stood up from his chair. “We’ll be heading out. Thank you for your time.”

“No no,” she purred. “That’s exactly why I’m curious about you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why go to the trouble of dressing up as federal agents and talking to me about this murder? You don’t seriously think I killed him?”

“No,” Dean sat back down cautiously. “But that wallet is our best shot, and-”

“I don’t care about the wallet,” she made a careless wave with her hand. “I want to know  _ why  _ you’re investigating this.”

“What?”

“You’re not feds. So why bother? And why do you think you’ll have any better luck than they will? Obviously you know something.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other again, attempting to communicate silently in a series of facial expressions and hand gestures, before Sam gave up and turned back to Bela, pulse still racing with the thrill of lying on the fly. “I saw you pickpocket him.”

Bela blinked. “You were there?”

“Yes. All night.” Sam nodded, finding the words easier now that he was slipping back into the truth. He’d taken an acting course in high school, to fill an extra curricular, and while he’d been pretty bad at it (not entirely his fault, as he was uncomfortable with his suddenly lanky body and regularly tripped on both his words and his own feet), one piece of advice had stuck in his brain. Behind every good lie is a grain of truth- the foundation upon which the rest is built. “I’m not surprised you didn’t notice me. Few do.”

The glance she sent his way was skeptical. “With your height?”

“No one notices the help.” Sam smiled. “Why do you think spies always dress as waiters?”

“But you’re not a spy.”

“No, but… I did want to blend in that night. I’m not exactly trying to catch the public eye.”

“And why’s that?”

Sam let his eyes close slowly, drawing a breath as though steeling himself to tell a deep secret, and frantically trying to think of something he could pass off as a deep secret. He thought back to acting class again- to the purpose of using a bit of truth- to make your emotions believable enough to move the audience. He needed a secret with emotional impact- and he said the first thing that came to mind.

“I was in love with him.” When he opened his eyes again, he let a few tears well up for effect. “With Gabriel Edlund.”

Bela sat back in her chair, absorbing what he’d said.

“And that night, I just…” Sam made a brave attempt to swallow down his false emotions. “I just wanted to imagine what it would be like if we could be together, all the time. Without rules about who is and isn’t appropriate to be seen with someone like him…” 

Dean coughed loudly and abruptly, obviously hiding a laugh. Bela’s attention snapped to him, and he faked a few more coughs before looking up at her and apologizing. “Sorry. Just choked on some emotion.”

“Okay,” Sam relented, “so I’m being a little dramatic. We went out a couple times, hooked up a few more. But…” He made eye contact with Bela and held it as he said, softer than before, “he was really something special.”

She nodded, nearly imperceptibly. “He was.”

“I can’t go to the cops about the pickpocketing without that leaking. And you know the tabloids would be all over it. I just want to see what kind of lead I can get, and then hand over whatever I find, anonymously. Please.”

Bela was silent for a long time, bringing one hand up to roll the chain of her necklace between thumb and forefinger. “One condition.”

“Yeah?”

“My name doesn’t get mentioned. Ever. I never wanted to get involved in this and I’m not fond of the law.”

“Not surprised,” Dean snorted.

“Says the fake federal agent,” Bela quipped.

“You have a deal,” Sam rushed, hoping they’d get something from Bela before she possibly changed her mind. “I swear, you never get mentioned.”

“Crook’s honor,” Dean offered.

Bela sighed. “A few nights before the party, I received a letter. Here, in my office. It was blackmail.”

“Do you still have that letter?” Dean leaned forward in his seat.

“No.” Bela laughed, but this time at herself. “I… I shredded it. Looking back it was a stupid thing to do, but in the moment? I couldn’t leave it floating around.”

Dean nodded. “I looked you up. You’ve done some impressive thieving.”

“You look at my court record?” she asked with a small smile. When Dean nodded, she broke into a full grin. “Oh darling, you’ve seen a fraction of my work. But that wasn’t what they knew, whoever they were.”

“What’d they know?”

Her face twisted into an expression of hurt, for a fraction of a second, then covered it with outrage. “What makes you think I’d tell you?”

Dean held up his hands in a universal gesture of half-meant but socially mandated apology.

“All they needed me to do was take Gabriel’s wallet, then leave it in the pocket of a coat on the terrace railing. So I did.”

Sam cut in. “They didn’t tell you why?”

“No. I can only assume they were after money?” She shrugged. “I can’t imagine the Edlunds haven’t faced worse theft attempts before. But then someone killed him.” Letting out a sigh, she dropped her pendent and let it swing against her sternum. “At this point I don’t know what I’m more worried about- actual feds tracing his case back to me, or whoever blackmailed me coming back for another round.”

Sam nodded, digesting all the information she’d given him. “I haven’t told anyone but him-” he jerked his head in Dean’s direction- “about what I saw, and I won’t, I swear. Anything else you can tell me- like this jacket? Color, style, anything?”

“Women’s, sort of a light fall thing. It was too dark to make out the exact color, but it was black or close to it. I waited and watched for a few minutes in case anyone I knew picked it up, but an employee got to it first. Probably took it to the coat room, but someone interrupted me to socialize and I lost her.”

“An employee?” Sam’s heart lept. He knew half the people who had been working there that night, and those he didn’t, he could look up through his workplace. “What’d she look like?”

“Cute. Short red hair, maybe five and a half feet? Kind of a squarish jaw.”

“Was she wearing flats?”

Bela furrowed her brow. “Now that I think about it, she must have been. No heel click.”

“That’d be Charlie,” Sam said, a touch of delight in his voice. He had Charlie’s number, wouldn’t even have to call the company. “Thank you so much for your help, Ms. Talbot. I mean it.”

She curled her lip slightly, as though repulsed by his genuine gratefulness. “Remember what I said about the law.”

“Of course.” Sam stood.

“That is a threat, by the way. Understand?”

“Loud and clear.”

Dean stood too, fussing with the lapels of his suit jacket. “If you’d like us to tell you what we find…”

“Please do. Now get out of my office, I have actual clients to speak to.”

“What exactly do you do?” Dean asked.

“ _ Out. _ ”

\-------

As the brothers crossed the parking lot, Sam pulled out his phone and flipped through his contacts, looking for Charlie.

“At this point,” Dean grouched, “I’m like ninety percent sure she just steals things for a living. And all these clients are just people who want something stolen.”

Sam shrugged. “She helped us a lot. I’m not complaining if she games the system.”

“Dude.” Dean stopped walking in the middle of the parking lot and stared at Sam, wide-eyed. “Aren’t you trying to go to law school?”

“Yeah. But I want to be a defense lawyer.”

“Ohhh, so you wanna help people like her get away with shit.” Dean grinned.

“That’s… that’s not what I’m saying, hang on.” Sam held his phone to his ear as it rang, but dejectedly dropped his arm a moment later. “Voicemail.”

“So what do you want to do, mister hotshot lawyer-to-be?”

“I want to help people. Maybe, y’know, people who can’t afford a lawyer so they’re advised to just plead guilty and end up in the prison system for years, or… people who want custody of their dumb kid brothers but don’t stand a chance in court.” Sam looked back down at his phone and swiped aimlessly through a few menus.

“Oh.” Dean was quiet for a moment, then as the two of them started walking again, added, “That’s cute.”

Sam rolled his eyes without looking up. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean it. It’s really sweet of you. You’re… I’m really proud of you, Sam.”

“Really?” Sam paused mid-text and glanced over at his brother. “You mean that?”

“Of course I mean it, dumbass. You think I’d try to legally adopt a kid I wasn’t proud of? And look at you now- I mean, you let your friend crash with you for like two weeks? I’m not sure I could handle a damn one of my friends in my place for that long.”

“Well, thanks.” Sam fired off the text to Charlie as they arrived at the car. “And for the record, Gabriel’s been great. I think now that you’re here he’s just… he’s peacocking.”

“Why?”

“You kind of bring that out in people.”

Dean slid into the driver’s seat and thought about what Sam had said for all of five seconds before dismissing it with a “huh” and starting the car. “Home?”

 

Charlie texted back on the drive, and Sam held up his phone triumphantly. “Rowena MacLeod. That’s the woman who had Charlie bring her the black jacket.”

“So she’s next on our list, huh?”

“Yeah. But I’m not entirely sure the whole FBI schtick is going to work on her.” Sam scrolled down, reading another line of Rowena’s personal site. “She’s a psychic.”

Dean scoffed and looked away from the road, trying to get a glimpse of Sam’s phone; Sam batted him away. “You don’t actually believe that ‘psychic’ crap, do you Sammy?”

“Not really. But you know how these people work, right? They’re really good at reading people. They tell you how you subconsciously feel just from microexpressions and body language. They know how to get you focused on yourself instead of them. And she doesn’t exactly have an office we can swing by. We’d have to go to her house, or wherever she does her readings. We’d be on her turf.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Dean scowled. “She’d read us like the morning news.”

“Exactly. So what do we do? Blackmail her back? Tell her we know something and hope she doesn’t call our bluff?”

“Nah, Sam, I think it’s time we take this beyond talking. I think it’s time for a little breaking and entering.” Dean glanced over and wiggled his eyebrows, and Sam let out a long sigh and looked out the passenger window. Just when he hoped they were done breaking the law for a couple days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments appreciated! I'm a big fan of 1. when you tell me what your favorite part was 2. speculation on what will happen next and 3. general flailing around with delight. Next chapter I promise intrigue! Suspense! Sam being sappy!


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